


Acts of Volition

by redhandsredribbons



Series: Other Paths [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Angst, Emotionally Repressed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Foreshadowing, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Prequel, Slash, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhandsredribbons/pseuds/redhandsredribbons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loghain doesn't tolerate others breaking his routines. And Maker-damned Maric won't stop looking at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acts of Volition

**Author's Note:**

> **Possible warnings:** some ableist language use, explicit consensual sex, boundary violation (kissing without asking first), implied past character death, war, injury, implicit gender essentialism/cissexism

Every recent evening ends the same: with Maric's jaw flapping in constant chatter and Loghain's spine twitching in increasing rigidity.

Loghain curses his own father for making him swear fealty to this floundering prince, and for proceeding to die to seal the contract. Loghain thinks he should have killed "Hyram" when he first toppled out of the underbrush. Instead, Loghain finds them canopies of branches in the Wilds each night, so they can rest in relative shelter, and guards Maric more diligently than he would his own life. He sits in fading light as Maric grabs up the silence Loghain creates, and fills it, overflowing, with words.

It becomes a habit, and habits comfort Loghain, no matter how grating they may be. One night, when Maric is actually quiet for once, Loghain finds he can't even appreciate the peace. Maric's silence is unacceptable. Loghain doesn't tolerate others breaking his routines. 

And Maker-damned Maric _won't stop looking at him_.

"What?" Loghain barks out, as Maric stares at his face.

"Nothing," Maric says, still a terrible liar. 

Loghain snorts, shakes his head, and looks away again, though not for long.

It still feels as though hornets are buzzing their way into Loghain's skull. Loghain looks again. Maric looks away.

"If you have something to say," Loghain says, "Spit it out."

Maric, with all the grace and subtlety of a broken-winged dragon collapsing onto a village, scrambles closer to him, in part on his hands and knees, and presses a hot, sticky mouth against Loghain's.

Maric's tongue shoves into Loghain's agape-with-surprise mouth. Loghain's groin jolts at the suddenness, and he finds that his own tongue pricks at Maric's of its own accord, as if testing, seeing what it's like. Maric lets out a heavy, satisfied sigh, and sinks in closer to Loghain. The sigh sends a shiver down the sides of Loghain's neck, and Loghain's disorientation suddenly clears. He shoves Maric, hard, back against the crunching leaves, and jumps to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" Loghain roars. He turns his head to the side and spits on the ground, then wipes his mouth with a wrist.

Maric looks dazed and doesn't even move to stand up, just reclines there where Loghain pushed him. 

"I'm sorry," Maric says. "I just thought--"

"Oh, yes? What did you think?"

"It's just, we've gotten so close, and--"

"You think because you're the prince you can just take whatever meets your fancy?" Loghain waves his arms, gesturing in the dark, empty Wilds around them. "Your subjects' lives? Me?"

"No!" Maric says, eyes widening. "No. I thought you-- _no_ , I don't think that. I'm sorry."

Loghain scoffs, and turns away, leaving Maric on the ground. 

*

Maric's eyes loll and his teeth chatter, lips blue around the edges, as Loghain encourages the fire to start. Maric's just as little help now as when he was unconscious. It seems even Fereldan nobles have next to no cold resistance. 

The fire finally catches, and blazes upwards. It's too noticeable to reconnoissance troops for Loghain's tastes, but Maric's practically an icicle, and he's not about to allow that. Loghain pulls the single, threadbare blanket out of their pack, and readies himself for sleep. Maric is closer to the fire now, but still chilled and trembling. Loghain grunts.

"Well?" Loghain asks, impatiently. "Are you going to get over here or not?" 

He motions for Maric to share the blanket.

Maric looks surprised, even with drooping eyelids. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Loghain snaps. "Have you known me to jest?"

The chill of Maric's skin soon joins Loghain under the blanket alongside the fire. They almost but not quite touch. Loghain feels as Maric begins to warm.

"I just thought you wouldn't want to be near me," Maric whispers. "After what I... well, you know."

Loghain's throat feels thick. He swallows. "Don't be daft," Loghain mutters back. "I can't let you freeze."

Maric smiles. Loghain holds himself carefully still, and looks away.

* 

Sleeping in proximity becomes a habit. It's practical, no more... or so Loghain lies to himself. 

He's very good at it, save that he knows when he's doing it. 

And if Maric's safety has become a personal matter, not just an oath, well, so be it. No need to discuss it.

One morning, Loghain wakes from a heavy sleep flat on his back to find Maric still asleep and curled against him. Maric's leg and arm are slung over Loghain with the weight of a dead bronto. And something that feels like a dagger hilt presses painfully against Loghain's side.

From between Maric's legs. 

Maker help him.

Loghain spends too long desperately trying think of a way to escape without waking Maric. To complicate matters, the pressure against him and his recent arrival back to consciousness make Loghain stir and harden in his own breeches. It worsens when Maric lets out a soft breath of a noise, and rocks his hips absently in sleep, Maric's eyes under eyelids rolling in dreams.

Loghain needs to stop this madness before his control slips and he makes a choice he'll regret. 

Deciding to risk awkwardness for the chance to escape, Loghain hisses, "Wake up, you oaf."

Maric's eyelids stop their fluttering and instead squeeze tighter. He lets out a little mumble of half-awake protest, and arches his back again. Loghain tenses, and suddenly Maric's eyes fly open.

"Oh Maker," Maric says, and flushes, realization across his face. He jerks his limbs away. "Loghain, I'm sorry, I swear I didn't know. I'll just go, I'm--"

"Look, just--" Loghain begins, and seizes Maric's arm before he flees. Andraste damn him, where is his self control? "That is..." Loghain takes a deep breath and sighs. He's going to regret this, but his aching groin says otherwise. "You don't have to go." 

Loghain rolls his eyes out of sheer embarrassment, but can't avoid a wry smile when he sees Maric notice Loghain's own tented trousers. 

Maric beams like the sunlight. 

"Loghain," Maric says, breathless and wondrous. He trails a hand down Loghain's stomach.

Loghain's hips jerk up of their own accord. Loghain grimaces, grumbles a complaint, and tries not to look at his own straining erection, but still refuses to relax his grip on Maric. 

"Loghain," Maric repeats again, and starts thrusting his hips along Loghain's side. "Maker, I want you. I don't know half of what I'm doing but, just, help me if I need it?" 

Maric tugs open Loghain's laces, and takes Loghain in hand, and plants a kiss on the underside of Loghain's chin. Maric barely squeezes Loghain's cock three times over, up and down, before Loghain lets out a grunt he didn't mean to make, and finds himself coming, his vision crackling.

"Oh Maker," Maric groans, and not at all self-consciously, fumbles to shove his own trousers down to his knees.

Maric rubs his cock on a bare patch of Loghain's side where Loghain's shirt has lifted. Maric's breath audibly starts up a tremor, and he increases the pace of his thrusts. Maric's thighs quake. Loghain tilts his face up, seeks Maric's lips, and kisses him. Maric spasms, groans, thrusts harder twice more, and comes in hot spurts up Loghain's shirt.

*

"I want to fuck you," Maric announces cheerfully at Loghain's door in Redcliffe.

"Quiet," Loghain hisses. He flushes, but lets Maric inside.

"I'm not embarrassed about it!" Maric says, once the door is closed and locked.

"I can see that."

"Would it be all right with you?"

Apparently so. 

Only a few minutes later, Loghain pushes back to shove Maric deeper inside him, as Maric makes the most unruly, unbecoming noises. Loghain holds himself at the base of his cock, tight, painful, trying to make himself last longer, but gasping in air. 

Maric grabs a handful of Loghain's dark hair in one of his golden fists, and tugs as he thrusts. Loghain gives in to himself, quivering against the dampening bedsheets as he comes. Maric's unskilled, frantic thrusts slip him out of Loghain a few times, but he manages, and comes inside Loghain with a shout. Maric nuzzles Loghain's back, breathing hard.

He pulls out and promptly rolls Loghain over and _clings_ , as if Loghain's the most comfortable pillow in Thedas. Loghain frowns, shifts, then frowns harder.

"Ugh," Loghain complains, "I think my rear is leaking. That is most certainly your fault."

"I don't mind."

"Then let's see how you like dripping out _my_ seed."

"I love you," Maric says, and Loghain chest starts pounding in his ears. 

"Don't say that," Loghain says.

"Why not?" Maric says. He looks utterly content and unperturbed, and nuzzles closer. "It's true."

"You'll be King. You'll need a wife."

"Some people have husbands."

Loghain shakes his head. "Common folk. Nobles like you need heirs."

"Then I'll marry an Orlesian, their women don't mind that kind of thing." Maric snickers at the absurdity.

Loghain scowls.

"I'm serious!" Maric insists. "Well, not the Orlesian bit. But I love you. I want to be with you. I can keep a secret."

"No you can't," Loghain snaps.

Maric shrugs. "We'll figure something out. I mean-- unless--" Maric frowns, inspecting Loghain's face. "Am I pushing you? If you don't feel the same w--"

"Don't be an idiot," Loghain says, and pulls Maric's head down for a hard kiss.

*

Loghain, no longer Hero of Riverdane but reluctant new Warden, no longer Teyrn but tyrant, feels his head flutter, feels the nausea of injury start to overcome.

"Maric, I'm sorry," Loghain says, before unconsciousness claims him.

**Author's Note:**

> Help. I never wanted Loghain feels. Loghain is despicable. Yet here we are. I actually haven't finished reading _The Stolen Throne_ yet, even though I know the spoilers, so apologies for the dubious, vague timeline of this fic. Loghain apologizing out loud to Maric's memory when injured in battle is canon in _Origins_. Help.
> 
> On a totally different note, stay tuned for my upcoming Dragon Age Big Bang fic! This fic is just a little piece I scribbled down when I should have been working on that one.


End file.
